Holding On
by Midgette
Summary: Shortly after the death of his parents, Frodo is kidnapped by a stranger. This stranger sells him in Bree, and from there you'll have to find out yourself. Because I'm bored and stupid, I've uploaded Ch. 4. Please read it, and review even if you didn't.
1. Almost Home

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, blah, blah, blah. Did you really think I did?  
  
A/N: This is my first fanfic, and I don't really know if I'm doing another. Let's just see how this one turns out.  
  
"Frodo, you need to wake up. It's almost time for first breakfast." Primula Brandybuck-Baggins sat on her son's bed and watched his blue eyes flicker open. Primula loved her son dearly.  
"What are we having today, Mummy?" 12-year-old Frodo sat up. "I'm hungry."  
"Be careful hone. You just go over a nasty cold. The doctor said you were fine now." Primula led her son down to the dining room, where the table was laden with food.  
  
~*~  
  
Primula and Drogo kissed there soon good night and pulled the covers up to his chin. They left the room quietly.  
"What do you say for a moonlit boat ride on the Brandywine, dear" Primula loved water.  
  
"You know I can swim." Drogo though water was less than good.  
  
"You know how sturdy the boats are. And don't worry. I can swim. "If only Primula's skill would have saved them, but water was a fickle thing  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo woke to a persistent knock on his bedroom door His door open slowly and he saw Saradoc, Esmerelda, and various other relatives. It was obvious all of them had been crying.  
  
"Frodo, we're sorry to have to tell you this, but your parents...are dead."  
  
Frodo paled. "Dead? How can they be dead? There we fine yesterday. Maybe this was all a joke?  
  
Esmerelda sat down on Frodo's bed. "They went boating on the Brandywine last night and the current was too strong for them. It tipped their boat over. Frodo, we're all sorry for you. You may come to Brandy Hall to live. Saradoc and I will take care of you."  
  
Frodo lay back down. He couldn't understand. Why would his dad go boating? He hated water. His relatives were crowding him. He wanted to be alone, but didn't trust his voice to tell them to get out. Why me? Why did it have to be my parents that went boating, of all things? Dad couldn't swim. Why did Mom let him go? He drew his knees up to his chin and laid his head on them. Dead? There was such a horrible finality to that word. Dead? Slowly everybody left the room. Frodo still couldn't get over the fact that his parent's were dead. He'd never seen them again.  
  
Frodo slowly changed out if his nightclothes. He would go down to the river and see for himself.  
  
~*~  
  
Down at the river, Frodo saw a wrecked boat and a dead body. His dad. Dead. Where was his Mom? Suddenly a hobbit came up from underwater holding a body. There she was. Frodo chocked on a sob and ran away.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days later was the funeral. Frodo hadn't wanted to go, but Aunt Esmerelda and Uncle Saradoc made him. It wasn't that he didn't care; he just didn't want to embarrass himself in front of all his relatives. Everybody had come, even the Sackville-Bagginses. The Brandy Hall funeral dinners were infamous. After the service, Frodo went with Esmerelda and Saradoc to that the guests for coming.  
  
As Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins went by, Frodo heard them whisper, "There he is...the Brandybuck orphan. What was Drogo thinking?"  
  
Frodo turned and ran away. Bilbo, his Uncle, noticed and ran after him. At first Bilbo couldn't find him, but at last he saw Frodo sitting under a tree, crying. Frodo was Bilbo's eldest and favorite cousin, but because of the 78-year difference in their ages, Bilbo preferred to call Frodo his nephew.  
  
Bilbo sat down beside Frodo and wrapped his arm around Frodo's shoulders. Frodo tried to squirm away, but Bilbo just hung on tighter. "What do you want?" Frodo's voice was broken and harsh.  
  
"Just let it out, Frodo-lad. Don't be ashamed. I understand." Bilbo's voice was as soft and reassuring as he could make it.  
  
Frodo stood up. "How could you possibly understand? Your parents were still alive when you turned 13!" Frodo ran further away. Bilbo sighed and got up. I am really getting too old for this. Panting, Bilbo finally found Frodo underneath another tree. Seeing Bilbo, Frodo got up and ran away again. Spying a tree with low branches, Frodo began to climb. Once about two- thirds up, he pulled out a locked containing his parent's pictures. Looking at them, he began to cry and soon fell asleep.  
  
Bilbo finally found Frodo and hour later. He stood at the tree trunk, hands on his hips, and shouted up, "Frodo Baggins, get down here now and come back with me to Brandy Hall."  
  
Frodo, hearing his name, opened his eyes and tried to roll over. The branch he was on wasn't that wide, and Frodo fell, getting hit by other branches on his way down. He finally hit the ground and saw Bilbo. He lifted his head and Bilbo seemed to swim before his eyes. "Well, I came down." Then his head fell back as he fainted.  
  
~*~  
  
And hour and a half later, Bilbo staggered into Brandy Hall carrying Frodo. Bilbo saw Saradoc in the library and carefully laid Frodo down in one of the chairs. Frodo stirred slightly, but did not wake.  
  
Saradoc looked up. "Bilbo, what happened?"  
  
Bilbo sighed before answering. "He fell asleep in a tree. I surprised him and woke him up and he fell down." Both hobbits looked at Frodo. "I hob he didn't break anything."  
  
"Don't worry, Bilbo. We'll call in the doctor to check."  
  
~*~  
  
The doctor came shortly. Frodo still hadn't woken. As the doctor was checking him, he asked Bilbo questions. "About how long ago did this happen?"  
  
"About 90 minutes, sir."  
  
"How high up was he when he fell?"  
  
"About 33 feet."  
  
"How did he get back here?"  
  
"I carried him, sir."  
  
As the doctor put pressure on Frodo's chest, he whimpered. He also whimpered when pressure was applied on his left arm and right ankle.  
  
"He seems to have a sprained ankle, a broken wrist, and some fractured ribs. He'll have to stay in bed for a while. I need to wake him to check his head." The doctor gently shook Frodo, taking care not to jar his wrist or hurt his ribs. Frodo gasped as he awoke. The doctor steadied him. "It'll all right, little one. I just need to check you head."  
  
"I just climbed out of a cotton wood tree, I was running from some honeybees. Drip-drying in the summer breeze, after jumping into Calico Creek. I was walking down an old dirt road, pas a field of hay that had just been mowed. I wish you'd just left me alone. I was almost home*"  
  
Bilbo exclaimed, "Frodo, are you feeling all right? You're speaking in rhyme."  
  
Frodo looked at Bilbo. "Uncle Bilbo, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in Hobbiton, or at least on your way back?"  
  
The doctor looked worried after Frodo spoke. He pulled Bilbo aside to talk. "I'm afraid this isn't good, Bilbo. He doesn't seem to remember what happened." The doctor turned back to Frodo. "Do you remember what happened, young one?  
  
Frodo's face clouded. "Of course. My parents did and we had the funeral today. I ran away and I guess I fell asleep by a tree."  
  
The doctor glanced at Bilbo as he knelt by Frodo. "You climbed up a tree, Frodo. You fell asleep up there. When you woke up, you fell out. You fell about 33 feet, lad."  
  
"But why would I be up in a tree? I have no use to be up there."  
  
"You were looking at your locket before you fell asleep. I guess you just wanted to be alone."  
  
"Ah." Frodo did not remember anything Bilbo was talking about. He watched as the doctor pulled Bilbo aside to talk to him.  
  
"He needs constant care. He has hit his head hard. He may develop a high fever. Keep him away from any illnesses. He body will be too weak to fight them off. Let him have plenty of rest. I understand you need to get back to Hobbiton. Who are his guardians?"  
  
Bilbo thought. "I think Saradoc and Esmerelda had him placed under their care. You might want to talk to them." "Indeed I shall. I'll go now." The doctor left.  
  
The doctor came back a few minutes later with Esmerelda and Saradoc. Esmerelda rushed straight to Frodo. Saradoc asked the doctor what they were to do for Frodo.  
  
"Make sure he is never alone for more than twenty minutes. He temperature may go up and down rapidly. Do not be worried by this. Check the swelling around his wrist and ankle. You must not expose him to any illnesses. Keep pressure off his ribs; he's broken a new. Let him sleep as long as he needs. Feed him as often as you can."  
  
Not mine either. This is the refrain from a song called 'Almost Home' that is sung by Craig Morgan. I was writing that part when it came on the radio and it just seemed to fit.  
  
Review please! This story is just one I dug up from a long time ago. I was trying to show off my vocabulary and I'm afraid it seems stupid. Please tell me what you think. 


	2. Surprises

Hey everybody! I'm back. So what if I got no reviews for the first chapter? Right now, I'm an optimist.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned it, 1), I wouldn't be typing on a slow computer with an even slower internet connection and 2) I'd have groupies. Go figure.  
  
Frodo's temperature fell within days, though the doctor still ordered him to be bedridden, as he was weak and injured. To recover, he had been given a room at the end of a corridor to avoid as many distractions as possible. Saradoc and Esmerelda did make sure he never got up. As Saradoc was the Master of Brandy Hall, however, he was often too busy to give Frodo the constant attention the doctor said he needed.  
  
As a case of the flu was going around, the doctor was often too busy to check up on Frodo or completely forgot about him. Some infants' deaths weighed heavily on everybody's mind, so no one reminded him. Cousins with sniffles and coughs often came to see him, without Esmerelda's, Saradoc's, or the doctor's knowledge.  
  
Luckily, Frodo's immune system had strengthened enough to stop any fatal illnesses. All he caught was a small cold.  
  
Within weeks, he was running outside again. He was perhaps a little slower than he had been before, but no permanent damage had been done. However, he had lost a great deal of weight from not eating while he was stuck in bed. He had always been chubby before, even by hobbit standards.  
  
~*~  
  
When Bilbo came for Yule that year, Frodo still kept his isolated room fro the privacy it offered. He had become depressed and withdrawn, never speaking unless spoken to, and rarely smiling. Happiness for Bilbo's visit and sadness for the first Yule without his parents competed for his dominant emotion. As a result, he was prone to mood swings that season.  
  
Happiness did win out, for the first day Bilbo was there at least.  
  
"Frodo, my lad, how have you been? Finally recovered from the accident, I see. Good. You do look like you could use some fattening up again, however. No problem. What are they feeding you?"  
  
"Hello Uncle," Frodo said softly. "I've been fine. They feed me enough, I'm just not hungry that often."  
  
"Not hungry?" Bilbo replied. "A hobbit, not hungry? Preposterous. Come. Let's go put my bags up and see if the cooks will feed hungry hobbits. If not you, then me at least. Traveling sure feeds the appetite."  
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo's Yule present to Frodo was a portrait of his parents taken at their wedding. Frodo's eyes welled up with tears when he realized what it was.  
  
"Thank you, Uncle Bilbo. I-I...Thank you."  
  
"Nonsense, my dear boy. It was the least I could do. It was only collecting dust on my shelf."  
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo left the week after. Frodo soon dug himself deeper into depression after he left.  
  
His cousins weren't always helpful either. Sure, most of them were nice and considerate and all, but it only takes one fallen stone to start an avalanche, doesn't it? Same way with Frodo. Nasty comments and hateful glares given to him in the hallways made him more withdrawn.  
  
Saradoc and Esmerelda were too busy to notice Frodo's withering happiness. He had taken to long walks far away from the hall, being for a week without coming back, and skipping meals when he was there.  
  
As every place with young people, and some older ones too, Brandy Hal had its fair share of bullies, and then some, as it was a large place. Most saw Frodo as an easy target, and spent their insults and such on him.  
  
"Well, look who we have here, Merimas. A little orphan hobbit walking by himself. Maybe he's lonely?  
  
"Probably, Melilot. We should walk with him to keep him company."  
  
"No, really, that's all right. I won't get lonely, I assure you."  
  
"Are you truly sure? We have nothing better to do, Frodo." Melilot jeered.  
  
"Yes, I'm truly sure. Thank you for your offer, nonetheless." Frodo sprinted away.  
  
"That little brat." Merimas and Melilot followed. "He spends so much time away from Brandy Hall he shouldn't even be considered living there. Because nobody likes a brat that doesn't know when his welcome's worn out, right Frodo?" That last bit was yelled loud enough for Frodo to hear. He heard all of it, really, but that last bit was directed straight to him.  
  
Unknown to all of them, including himself, Frodo was leading them straight to the Old Forest. All he saw was a bunch of trees and a pathway. He took it.  
  
"Brat." His pursuers stopped and yelled, "Good riddance, and good luck getting back out!"  
  
Frodo soon realized he was no longer being followed. He found a tree stump and sat on it to think. Merimas's and Melilot's words hurt him inside, but he had heard and even believed worse. He had been called a brat before, but each time, though he told himself it wasn't, it couldn't be true, he found himself believing it anyway.  
  
He heard someone coming and quickly checked the tears threatening to fall. He stood up off the stump and raised his fists, prepared to fight whoever was invading his 'space'. He then realized that the footsteps were too loud to be even the clumsiest hobbit. He could not think of anything else that would be running around it the woods, so he decided it must be a Big Person!  
  
Frodo had never seen a Big Person before. His Uncle Bilbo had though, and in his stories they had seemed nice enough... well, most of them had seemed nice enough anyway. This one was close now.  
  
"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little hobbit, lost in the forest. How very touching. Or maybe it's not lost. Maybe it's a spy, sent to collect the secrets of the woods. I wonder which it is."  
  
"Please, sir." Frodo stammered. "I'm no spy. I'm just lost sir, please believe me."  
  
The stranger laughed. "Of course I believe you, little hobbit. But the forest is no place for a child like you. Tell me, what are you doing in here anyway?"  
  
"Well, see, sir," Frodo began. "I was taking a walk and two of my friends started a game of... tag with me. I was trying to avoid being 'it' when I ran in here. I couldn't find my way back out, so I thought I'd take a little break by this stump." Frodo's face betrayed no emotion to counter his lie.  
  
"Some people would be alarmed by your ability to lie, hobbit. Others would praise you. I am merely curious. What drove you into this dreary forest?"  
  
"I tell no lie, sir. I was playing tag with friends and lost my way."  
  
"I am beginning to join the alarmed ones, little one. Where do you get your lying ability, and why are you really in this forest?"  
  
"Fine." Frodo crossed his arms. "I really was taking a walk when two bullies decided to walk with me. I ran away. They followed, taunting me. I saw the pathway and came in. They didn't. I think they were scared."  
  
"Not without reason. Only those with great need or have not heard the legends dare to venture in this far. Tell me, when they were taunting you, what did they say?"  
  
"Why does that matter? Can I not just leave it in the past?"  
  
"Your attitude, hobbit, tells me this is not the first time they've said things like that to you." Frodo glared at him. "Tell me, what do they say to you?"  
  
"They call me an ungrateful brat. They say I spend so much time away from my house I should not be considered a true citizen. They tell me nobody loves me."  
  
"And your parents knowingly let this happen?" The stranger inquired.  
  
Frodo averted his eyes for a moment before bring them back up to his face. "My parents died last fall."  
  
"Oh. And now you live...?"  
  
"And now I live at Brandy Hall. So do the two others."  
  
"I see. And how much time to you actually spend away?"  
  
Frodo shrugged. "I guess I may be away more than I am there."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Do you think you could show me the way out of the forest, sir?"  
  
"It is too late for you to get back to your home."  
  
"No matter. Once I get out of here I'll just head to where I normally go."  
  
"Might I ask where that is?"  
  
"There is a small grove about 10 miles from here where the trees are mutated and form suitable beds."  
  
"You think I would let you walk 10 miles in the dark?"  
  
Frodo shrugged again. "I've done it before."  
  
"Well, you won't do it tonight. Come. You may spend the night with my at my camp."  
  
"Thank you...sir."  
  
He laughed. "You may call me Aramir."  
  
"Frodo Baggins at your service, Aramir."  
  
"Baggins... Where have I heard that name before?"  
  
"No idea, sir. You may tell me once you figure it out."  
  
"I shall. And here is my camp..."  
  
The camp had been totally destroyed while Aramir had been talking to Frodo. The tent cover and cooking supplies had been taken.  
  
"I thought no one else came in here?"  
  
"So did I... Unless...but no..."  
  
"But no...what?"  
  
"Nothing. Forget I said-"  
  
Frodo felt himself being grabbed from behind. Something cold and sharp was pressed to his throat. Although he couldn't see it, he knew that it had to be some kind of weapon.  
  
Hey, if I'm nice enough to update a story with NO reviews, you can be nice enough to drop one.  
  
And I have the next part written. My update time will show how many reviews I get. That means, if you want to know what happens next, let me know, and I'll post it.  
  
Review please. And apologies for any discrepancies with Tolkien's work. I took some liberties with the names in the family trees in RotK. 


	3. Short trip to Bree and beyond

Hello, friends! I'm baack.  
  
Disclaimer: Does it LOOK like I own it? Tolkien imitator, not Tolkien himself. Or his sons, company CEOs, whatever. IT'S NOT MINE.  
  
~*~ Aramir drew a sword Frodo didn't realize he had. "Release the hobbit and I might let you keep your head."  
  
Frodo wasn't released. His captor slowly backed away from the destroyed camp, dragging Frodo with him. "Drop your sword and I might let him," he shook Frodo, "keep his head."  
  
Aramir laid his sword on the ground. Frodo tried to tell him with his eyes to keep it; that he didn't care, but Aramir either didn't understand or disagreed.  
  
"Good. Now put both your hands in the air, so I can tell you're not going to pull anything funny."  
  
Aramir did so. Frodo noticed a ring on his left index finger he hadn't before.  
  
"Good. Now stay like that while I take your little friend," the cold steel pressed slightly harder into Frodo's throat, drawing a little blood, "with me. You may stay here and reflect on how you failed to protect him."  
  
"I bid you good luck trying to get out. You'll need it."  
  
"Ah, I don't think so. I've heard enough about this forest to have marked my way in. Farewell... And as for you, I think I'll take you somewhere... special." Frodo was dragged away from Aramir, who still stood in the middle of the bare camp with his hands up in the air.  
  
Frodo and his captor were out of the forest in less than 10 minutes. A horse was waiting by the boundaries. The man tied a cloth around Frodo's eyes and stuffed another into his mouth and lifted him up. He swung himself up next. "Well, little hobbit, looks like you're stuck with me. I hope you enjoy the experience." He clicked his tongue and the horse began to trot. "I'm sure you'll find my company many times superior to that other man's." He kicked the hors and it began to gallop. "But it shan't last long. Soon I'm guna sell you in Bree!"  
  
Bree? I've heard of Bree. Both men and hobbits live there. For all the hobbits, though, I've yet to hear anything good about the place!  
  
~*~  
They rode through the night until about noon the next day. Although the man himself ate, he offered Frodo nothing, and Frodo didn't ask. The gag and blindfold were removed, though it didn't help, as Frodo recognized nothing of his surroundings.  
  
"So, little hobbit, confused, is we? Don't know where we are?"  
  
"We're on our way to Bree. You said so last night."  
  
"So. I've picked up a smart one, have I?"  
  
"Not exactly. Am I permitted to ask just why exactly you kidnapped me?"  
  
"Of course you may ask, shorty, but don't expect any answer that you'd like."  
  
"Any answer would be good about now, sir."  
  
"That man you were with. Have you any idea who he is?"  
  
"His name is Aramir."  
  
"I don't know what lies he's told you, hobbit, but his name, his true name, is not Aramir."  
  
"And you're not going to tell me what it really is, I presume?"  
  
"Dern right, hobbit. Don't go mixing yourself up with what doesn't concern you. You'll not be seeing him again."  
  
"Frodo."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"My name is Frodo if you want to stop calling me hobbit."  
  
"And my name is Gormir. I'll call you whatever I dern well please to." He lifted Frodo up to the saddle. "I'm getting rid of you as soon as I can, hobbit. We ride!"  
  
~*~  
  
It was a 2½-day trip to Bree. To Frodo, it seemed more like a week. The Big Person had taken to tying his hands behind his back, making his arms ache a lot.  
  
"So here we are, hobbit. We part soon. But to get the highest bidder, I'm afraid you can't be awake. Nighty-night, Frodo." A cloth soaked in sleeping drugs was placed over Frodo's face. He tried to not breathe it in, but he did so anyway.  
  
~*~  
  
When he woke up again, Gormir was nowhere in sight. He was in a poorly furnished wooden room with only one window. He was tied to the only chair.  
  
Gormir had brought him to a renowned inn called the Prancing Pony. Gormir was currently in the common area, collecting prices. The five highest bidders he brought to the room to see Frodo. As Frodo was still groggy, he did not quite understand what was going on as strange men scrutinized him, walking around his chair many times.  
  
"Nice, isn't he? Pretty, even for a hobbit. Especially for a male. Strong, too. In the body and the will. Although I suppose you can beat that out of him!" Gormir laughed. "Come. Let's go back out to the bar and discuss just how much you are willing to pay for him over drinks."  
  
It was only now sinking into Frodo what was happening to him. He was never going to see the Shire again. He would never see his family again. Brandy Hall and Bag End would be only a memory. He'd even miss Merimac and Melilot. He fell asleep trying to think of people who would miss him.  
  
He woke up to the face of one of the men who had been in earlier, looking at him. "Greetings, hobbit. You're mine now, and we're leaving town. Apparently somebody, a sore bidder no doubt, ratted on us and you have search parties looking for you."  
  
They left, Frodo wrapped up in a cloak he could barely breathe in. A horse was prepared, and Frodo felt himself being placed in the saddle. "We ride east, hobbit, far east. They wouldn't think to look for you that far out. Even if they did, they wouldn't care enough to go."  
  
This man, whose name was Thaurdil, seemed nicer than Gormir. There was a certain coldness to his eyes, however, that prevented him from seeing even remotely pleasant.  
  
En route to Gondor, where Thaurdil said they would stop, they stopped at Edoras to get supplies. Frodo was left tied up on the horse outside the city while Thaurdil went inside to buy what they needed.  
  
Apologies if I left off in a bad spot. It's a little over 3 pages, which is good for me, and my hands are starting to cramp.  
  
Review please. Kudos to those who did last chapter!  
  
Cell_air: No, I'm not done yet. By the time I actually quit, I'm not sure how many chapters I will have. I don't have it all planned out yet.  
  
H. Warrenbeck: Thank you! I don't receive compliments on my writing often, so it always makes me happy when I do.  
  
High Elf: It's all right. I don't review probably as often as I should either. And I have plenty of time to think up new twists and stuff. (Cable TV and internet doesn't reach to our house)  
  
Amy: Really, don't expect quick updates. I only write when I have the house to myself, which isn't as often as I like it to be.  
  
Jules: Here you go. I'll type the next one up as soon as I can. Patience! 


	4. New Places

Author's Note: Even though there was no response for Chapter 3, I'm putting up what I have written from a long time ago basically because I'm bored. Review, and I'll love you forever. Italics are thoughts.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, people might actually read it. Bleh.

Thaurdil had no way of predicting the actions of children, so he couldn't have known a small Rohan child was to wander outside the walls and find Frodo. And of course, wherever children go, their mothers are most likely to follow.

At first, the pair of mother and child thought Frodo was only a piece of baggage tied atop the horse, but when he started moving and whimpering they quickly changed their minds. Thaurdil had bought everything he thought they would need to get to Gondor and was going to get an ale...or two... or at least enough to get very drunk because he thought the hobbit was easier to handle that way. However, before he could find a cheap tavern, he had a strong urge to go check on the useless hobbit. When he got there, he found the mother and child trying to untie his captive.

"Hey!" At his unexpected call, the Rohirrim quickly turned around and saw Thaurdil running toward them. "He's mine!"

The mother said, "Who is he of yours that you would tie him up on a horse while you do Eru knows what inside the city."

"He is mine. Mine to do what I want with. If I had wanted him to come into the city, he would be in the city. If I wanted to tie him up and leave him on my horse, he would be tied up on my horse. If I wanted someone to untie him, I'd put up a sign or something."

"But surely you cannot be his father!"

"I assure you, dearest lady, this...child is no son of mine."

"How is it you came to be his guardian then?"

"I wish I could explain that to you, madam, but that involves a very complex legal process which I'm not a liberty to discuss at the moment."

"Eru above... You've kidnapped him!"

Frodo, who hadn't seemed to be aware during this conversation, started to nod his head as if in agreement. Thaurdil, in what he thought was a discreet way, slapped him.

"You have my word, lady, that I did not take this lad from his home. If that is all, we need to be on our way. Good day."

Once they were out of earshot, Thaurdil hissed at Frodo, "You dare tell anyone how I came to have you, and I'll personally make sure you never forget it for what little time I'd let you live." Frodo nodded. "Good. Now that we have that settled, we are going to Gondor."

So he still insists on going to Gondor. I wonder how he plans to keep this a secret when people find out when we're not even in a town. I wonder how big exactly is Gondor?

For the rest of the trip, nothing eventful happened. They stayed away from large towns and slept under the stars. Once they had entered Gondor, Thaurdil headed for Minas Tirith. Frodo was astonished with the landscape, especially the mountains in the distance.

Frodo would remember his first sight of Minas Tirith for the rest of his life. He was particularly amazed with how tall it stood at 7 stories high.

Thaurdil lead the horse into the city, passing the guards like some innocent merchant. Actually, that was the story he gave them to get in.

He went to a small house on the 2nd level that was crammed with all sorts of small items. Frodo was given instructions to organize the place with Thaurdil went to his favorite pub.

"Thar! I haven't seen you in these part in awhile! Where've you been?" asked a scruffy-faced ruffian, who happened to be the bartender, as soon as Thaurdil entered the tavern.

"I've been in Bree, Edoras, and everywhere in between on business. Give me an ale, Mithmir."

"Gladly. So tell me, what business did you have in Bree? I thought Bree was too easy for you."

"Well, see, Mith," He beckoned him closer and whispered in his ear, "I bought a young hobbit there while I was passing through sold by Gormir. Apparently one of the Dunedain had taken it into his care, and Gormir decided to take it to show how well they were protecting them."

"Oh." Mithmir laughed. "I see".

Of course, Mithmir had no idea what the Dunedain was, or did, but the name sounded important so he played along. "This hobbit you bought...is it a boy or a girl?"

"Boy."

"And you plan on making it own its own keep, doubtless?"

"Hm... Hadn't thought of that..."

Thaurdil stayed at the bar long enough to get properly drunk, plus a little more before he left. He found a shoe shop on his way back to his house, and somehow with his drunken mind recalled the hobbit had no shoes, so he bought some. He arrived at his house calling for Frodo. "Hobbit! Hobbit, come here!" When Frodo came, Thaurdil slurred at him, waving the shoes. "Put these on, go out and find you a job. Don't come back until you have one, and don't tell anyone anything about why you're here."

Frodo walked out the door muttering, "Get a job. I don't know if the people here sleep at different times, but in the Shire, it would be really hard to find any business open, let alone any businesses offering jobs. And, if I do find one offering a job, how am I to explain why I need one? This is just great. As if I haven't been through enough already, being kidnapped from the Shire and all, I actually have to work in a town in the middle of a country that I didn't even know existed!" As he ended his rant, he noticed a man in armor looking at him funny, so he decided to ask him. "Excuse me sir, but do you know where I could apply for a job?"

"No, I can't think of any place that would have any positions open for one so young. Especially for such a young halfling."

"Thank you...Wait. hafling?" Frodo stopped, confused. "Who said anything about halflings?"

"You did."

"I did no such thing!"

"You did, in a way. I heard you say something about how you were taken from the Shire. One, this means you're a hobbit, and two, this means you were kidnapped and need to tell someone so they can return you to your home."

_This is not good. If Thaurdil finds out, he'll kill me!_ "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, sir." The only thing giving away his lie was his troubled eyes.

"I'm afraid you did, halfling. Tell me, who did it?"

"Nobody did it. I'm not a halfling, and I wasn't kidnapped!" He was starting to get really panicky now, but still noticed the other guards that were starting to come closer as if expecting trouble. "Could you just please tell me if there are any job positions open anywhere?"

The guard crossed his arms. "Tell me what I want to know and I'll tell you what you want to know." The other guards came still closer, creating a tight circle around the two arguing.

"But I cannot tell you what you want to know without lying!"

"So you admit you were kidnapped?"

"I wasn't kid--" Frodo stopped, and realized what he had said to give himself away. The guard nodded, and Frodo felt a tight pressure on his upper arms. "Take him to the steward. He'll know how to handle this." Frodo was forced away, tears streaming down his face.

At the Citadel, the guards neared the door to the Steward's business chamber. As they grew closer, Frodo began to struggle. "Please...Please let me go! I didn't do anything...Please!"

The guards knocked on the door. "What is it now?" came a voice from inside. "Already this day I've been trouble with news about my youngest son. This had better be important."

They entered. "One of the new guards saw him," the guard holding Frodo said, "and apparently heard him talking about being taken from the Shire. When asked about it, he denied it adamantly."

"And the guard that saw him...where is he?"

"I'm right here, sire."

"Can you remember what he said?"

"Not exactly, sire, but I remember the general idea. He was talking about how he was taken from his home in the Shire. He also mentioned having to find a job in this town. I don't think he knows exactly where he is."

"Thank you. And what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I think this is all a big misunderstanding, sire. I never said anything about being taken from the Shire, but I did ask the guard about getting a job."

"Tell me halfing, do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, sire." Frodo stuttered. "Why?"

"My son is an avid reader. He loves to learn about the various cultures of Middle-Earth. Sometimes, he shares this knowledge with I and his brother. One day he came across this unique species called hobbits. There is something special about hobbits that you can always tell them apart from humans. Remove his shoes." He ordered his guards.

Frodo began to struggle again. "Please sire, but you don't really want to do that...my feet stink."

"Your feet stink?"

Frodo nodded and unconsciously stopped kicking, glad the Steward understood. Guards immediately grabbed his feet and took of the shoes.

"Your feet stink."

Frodo nodded, defeated, and the interrogation began.

"How did you get to Gondor, halfling?"

"On a horse, sire."

Denethor rubbed his temples. "And where you alone on this horse?"

Frodo hesitated before deciding he should answered. "No, sire."

"Can you tell me who you were with?"

Frodo looked around wildly for any exits, but guards blocked them all. "It was a man. His name was..." He broke off and began crying silently.

"Yes?"

"His name was Thaurdil." Frodo said so softly Denethor could barely hear him.

"And where his he now?"

Defeated, Frodo answered, "He lives in a small house on the 2nd level sire."

"Thank you." Denethor nodded, and some guards left. "Please, sit down." Frodo complied. "Now, how did Thaurdil come by you? Did you take you from your home personally, or did he get you from someone else?"

While Frodo still seemed on edge, he offered little resistance in his answers to the questions. "Someone else, sir. I think his name was Gormir or something of the like."

"And Gormir..."

"And Gormir took me himself, sir."

"I see. These were the only men involved? No other accomplices? No one either tried to contact?

"No one, sire."

"Thank you. We shall find you a place to sleep in the tower tonight, and tomorrow we shall try to get into contact with your parents. You can give us the address then."

Deciding to tell them tomorrow his parents weren't alive, Frodo simply said, "Thank you."

Thaurdil was outraged when Frodo didn't come back within a couple of hours. "Where did the little brat go?" He asked himself, throwing in a jacket and stepping outside. The cool wind and the night sky made him realize that no business would be open except for pubs at this time of day, and that he had told the halfling not to come back until he had found someplace to work. He decided to go back to the pub and wait until morning to see if Frodo was back by then.

On his way there, struck by a sudden idea, he asked a guard nearby if he had seen a child with dark hair and bright blue eyes. The guard answered in the negative and Thaurdil walked past.

As soon as he was gone, however, the guard called another guard to his post and told him about the man. They decided one of them should go tell Denethor.

Thaurdil was a clever man when he was sober, and he was sufficiently sober now to have just hidden out of sight where he could listen to the guard. He followed him up to the Citadel, where he saw Denethor's guards leading Frodo away to the residential chambers.

TBC...

Wow...That was longer than I thought it was. If anyone has any comments, positive or negative, please, please, please review and I shall defend myself against flames, or be eternally grateful for constructive criticism.


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